Jigsaw: A Collection
by intallah
Summary: A place to house my many drabbles. Different ratings, characters and genres.
1. In Memories: G

Haku remembers his mother.

He remembers her face, because she was beautiful with her wide, clear eyes and tender smile. He can remember her long dark hair that he used to get his hands tangled in. He remembers reaching out and placing his tiny hands on her warm, pink cheeks, and laughing when she did the same to him.

He can remember her warm arms around him and he can remember feeling safe. She didn't smell like flowers, or cinnamon, or any other pretty scents, she just smelled right.

He remembers her voice, low and sweet, when she sang him to sleep, rocking back and forth. He remembers how she would always tell him that it would be alright, even if it wasn't going to be. He remembers her telling him that dreams were the most important things in the world. He remembers her saying that he was going to make her proud.

Haku can remember seeing his mother kill for the first time. He remembers her expressionless face as she lets the kunai fly. He remembers her strong, pale hands twisting into signs that were so strange to him at the time, but now he makes the same signs with his own pale hands.

Haku doesn't remember his mother's name. He doesn't remember why she killed, or

how she died. He doesn't remember how her laugh sounded. He sometimes

wishes that he did. But he remembers her, and that's enough.


	2. Dazzle:T

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

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All her life Shizune had wanted beauty. She wanted beauty for herself, beauty around her, beauty for others. She wanted to be able to pull sparkle from the night sky, find poetry in carefully arranged flowers. She wanted men to fight over her, she wanted to look as though hers was a lineage that had been passed down through the ages, an ancient, weathered beauty, risen from the sea, all pale skin and flashing eyes. She wanted to be adorned, or left blank, a white, dead-eyed queen of the underworld.

But instead she got to be average. Pretty, skinny and plain. No one waged wars over the curve of her smile, no one painted her surrounded by flora. She was the girl the nice boys liked, taking her on dates to the ramen shop, timid pecks on the cheek. No one made love to her in the forbidden darkness, whispering oaths and prayers into the dusk. No one ever killed for her, promising her that they would take her with them, make her the savage queen, ruling over the hearts of her subjects. She would never wear a gown that trailed over the dappled ground, never sleep outside, naked, under the stars and next to her lover.

Instead she became a healer. A Shinobi. A good one, at least. Trained by one of the sannin. She disappeared from the village, swept away in her sensei's blind anguish. There was a certain romance to that at least. Maybe rumors would swirl. But of course they wouldn't, she reasoned with herself, she was Shizune-chan. She was the good girl. Dedicated, loyal, sensible. She was just going to help her sensei,like a good student.

There was no beauty to her, no beauty to her graceless body, long and white and awkward, no beauty to her simple face, plain and pleasing, no music in her voice, no melody in her laugh.

When she returned her old friends embraced her, the only one who looked at her differently was Genma.

She remembered him-strong, shy, handsome. And the way he looked at her, eyes like velvet, flowing over her, enveloping her. She felt the first rush of lust that day, seeing how he looked at her. She just smiled timidly, dot used to the beauty of desire. The beauty of heat.

He kissed her that night, after sake at the bar across the street from Tsunade's mansion. He held her hand the whole night, staring at her in a way that made something within her flutter, threaten to crack. Once outside, both flushed and tipsy, he pushed her up against the wall behind the bar and kissed her, lips warm and alive. The way his tongue trailed down the roof of her mouth, the way his hands found the delicate curve of her breasts, her slender waist, made her feel desired. She felt his want, his need. She could even feel his love, hissing in the air between them.

He held her close, "I missed you." He whispered it into her neck.

"I missed you too." She wrapped her arms around him and he pulled her in closer, as if he wanted her to disappear into his body.

That night she heard the music around her, felt the poetry dancing in the air. He made her the pale beauty, eyes heated with passion, he made her the queen of the night, gliding on a cloud. With him she was the goddess, the woman that all men desired, as ancient as time. Her body, long and slender, was perfect in his hands. He shook with her, evoking an ancient past, where love and beauty were all that mattered. They bathed in light, drank of passion.

And she could feel the love pounding through both their bodies, heated and taut, stretching and bursting into a flash unlike any she had ever seen or felt before.

In that moment all her preconceived notions fell apart, smashing into crystal. And it was just her, her and her love, alone in the world. And that was enough for her.


	3. Remains:T

Not Mine.

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She was small and pale and dead and he didn't want her in his arms anymore. He wanted to let her fall, body twisting in the air as she glided down, hardly a splash in the water where she would fall. He saw it now, when he screwed his eyes shut, trying not to look into her limp face, or smell the lingering scent of cosmos, roses and sakura blossoms, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. He saw her long hair fanning down as she fell, weightless in the air for just a moment. She would fly.

He wanted to drop her and run, run far away, somewhere he could sob alone, and he wanted her to be free. He wanted her to fly away.

She already had, he supposed, and his pragmatic side won over, eyes sliding open. He looked down, expecting to see her gone, her face a shriveled mask. But she was as beautiful as ever, although she was so white and a dark trickle of blood ran down her perfect, pointed chin. Her hair even seemed lighter, white blond, and it was loose now, falling over his arms. He felt it, still so soft, and still smelling of flowers. And then he didn't want to let her go. He wanted to hold her forever, whispering her name like a prayer, because maybe, maybe that would bring her back. _Ino. Ino. Ino_. It didn't work.

They had never been lovers, but friends were perhaps even more important. He held her closer and felt her blood soak through his own clothes, saturate his skin. He cried into her hair, willing her to snap up and scold him for it. But she was limp and silent.

He wanted to let her fly, but she already had. So he carried her back to Konoha, where he and Chouji would stand at her grave, the last remains of team 10.


	4. Serpents:Rated T

Not mine.

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Anko waited until she felt the pain explode inside her. Then she screamed, as loud and as long as the gaping hole in her stomach allowed her too. Which shouldn't have been very loud or long. But the pain, the vicious, snarling pain that tore through her entire body fueled her and the scream soared through the battlefield, a mad howl that made everyone turn their heads.

She could barely see through the blood that dripped down into her eyes, she didn't even know where it was from. She had been fighting with the last remaining enemy on the battlefield. Everyone else had either already killed their opponents, or had trapped them.

She saw the leering Sound ninja stagger towards her, smirking at her fearful eyes and the blood that ran thickly down her chin.

"I don't think so." She heard a light voice, and Kakashi leapt in front of her, picking the fight back up, becoming the hero again. Silver Perseus, out for blood and glory.

It hurt too much for her to even feel relieved, she just let her body collapse, and felt her eyes slide shut. And all she saw was red, and all she thought was _I don't want to die. This can't be how it ends. It can't it can't it can't it can't…_

Strong arms closed around her, healing chakra was pumped through her body, she felt it struggling to repair all the damage, but the pain that filled her body overwhelmed it, pushing her consciousness to it's limit.

Suddenly the pain stopped. The last remaining shreds of logic in her mind told her that it was because her body simply couldn't handle it anymore. She wanted to grasp that last bit of rationality and hold onto it, but it just slipped through her fingers, threads in a rapidly fading dusk.

Voices and feelings dipped gently through her mind, she thought she heard Ibiki's deep voice, muttering words that she couldn't quite piece together. Shizune's voice broke in too, in waves behind Ibiki's. She wanted to say her name, reach out to her. Vaguely, she hoped that Shizune was the one trying to heal her-because maybe she would be able to.

Had Shizune even come on the mission? She searched around for the answer, but it had long ago flown away. She stretched her mind, trying to grasp their voices in the murky haze. But then Shizune's gentle murmurings, and Ibiki's deep voice suddenly faded and morphed into another voice, a terrifyingly familiar one.

She wanted to scream again, but before she could she felt her curse mark explode in pain. The pain faded as quickly as it had come and then she heard the sound of water.

Water. She opened her eyes. She was back in Konoha, the waterfall next to her pounded memories into her head, the cool grass etching familiar sensations into her bare arms.

She sat up, wrapped her arms around herself, feeling her warm body, testing the waters to see if she was real. She was small again, just a girl, and when she brought her hand to her forehead she found no blood, no sweat, just the cool metal of her hitai-ate. It was solid. She held onto it, pressing her fingers into the grooves.

"Do you understand?" The voice came from behind her. She gasped, turning around, feeling her chest clench. The hitai-ate turned cold, unbearably cold. She let her hand fall.

"Sensei." She whispered, voice young, so full of hope. Her fear had vanished; she could look him in the eyes. He wouldn't hurt her, she was his pet, his prized student. He loved her.

"Answer me Anko. Do you understand now?"

"Understand what?" She had no sense of herself. She felt like her words were drifting in from the air. When she reached up to touch the hirai-ate she couldn't find it.

"You never were good at paying attention."

Everything about him was so achingly familiar, so achingly real. His hair shone in the dappled sunlight, falling down his shoulders like inky glass. His eyes,so intense in his pale face. His skin, like polished marble, smooth and white. She wanted to touch him, she wanted him to hold her. He spoke again, voice deep and mesmerizing, soothing.

"You know what I'm asking you Anko."

She savored the way he said her voice, turning it upside down, inside out.

"Do you understand what I've taught you?" His eyes burned on her, he felt her, measured her, all with those glassy eyes, like a snake's.

"Yes." And she truly did. If she had been herself the knowledge would have scared her. But the words dripped from her mouth, and she dipped into them savagely, a beast ripping into quivering flesh. Pandora, wrenching open the box, tasting the horrors she had just unleashed, tasting the sugar and the poison. They were the serpents, alone in their savage glory. "Death is all we must fear. Any means should be taken to avoid death. We kill, not just for the thrill of it, the taste of violence and passion, but to survive ourselves. Other's lives are meaningless. Even those we profess to love. They should only die in the end, and we must keep ourselves alive. Even a half-life, a life tainted by sin-greed, envy, avarice, lust…is better than death."

She gripped each word like an anchor, spewing the poison as if it would save her life. She saw his face brighten, eyebrows slicing downward like scythes.

"You've finally learned." His voice was silky, a hand on her thigh, a whisper in her ear.

And as her eyes widened with the realization of what she had done, and a scream began in her throat, the image before her eyes faded.

She was alone, shivering in the wasteland-naked, with nothing to cover her pale body with but her hands. "Fuck." She choked out, ashes spilling from her lips. Alone in the underworld, she wanted her sensei back. She wanted something real- sunlight and water, grass and metal, hot and cold. She wanted to feel. But she felt nothing. No pain. Just emptiness. She couldn't cry. And then she was gone.

She didn't know where she was when they brought her back. She didn't even know if it was real. The stiff bandages, the dull pain deep in her stomach, the sweat beading on her forehead. She didn't know if any of it was real. But she tried to believe. She believed in Shizune's gentle hands, in Ibiki's slight smile as he told her that it was okay, that he was happy she was alive. Kakashi only held her hand and told her that he had known she would make it the whole time.

"You're too strong." He said cheerfully, "Way too resilient. You won't die until you want to."

"Thanks Kakashi." She smiled weakly. This was real. It was all real, his flesh against hers. He kissed her on the cheek and his lips were soft and warm and alive. It was all she wanted.

Because it was what she had been taught. There were some things ingrained into your body, into your blood. And no matter what, no matter how long and hard she had worked trying to change herself, she was Orochimaru's student. She would never die, not until she was sure that it was right.

She had tried to change herself before, in the Forest of Death, heart pounding and hand intertwined with Orochimaru's, a metallic taste in her mouth like blood, or fear. She had known that it wouldn't work.

She would continue perhaps, continue trying to change. And she would never, ever think of that moment again, when she belonged completely to Orochimaru, saying exactly what he wanted to hear. She would never remember feeling wild, free and feral. Kill others only to survive. It wasn't real. It never happened. Anko would never kill someone she loved. She would never kill her comrades. She would never kill herself. She would never kill Orochimaru, because the tattered remains of love still remained around him. She wouldn't die until she wanted to.

They were the serpents, the empty air around her hissed.


End file.
